The Secrets We Keep
by The World in Black and White
Summary: Pain. His world was darkness and pain. But... one day... he found a friend. A friend to see through his darkness to the truth beneath, and from that friend, a family he never dreamed of having. His name was Boy, Freak and is Harry. He is the Boy Who Lived, and he is broken. But underneath it all, he is just a broken heart that anyone could save. So save him.
1. Chapter 1: Safe At Last

Harry shook, trembling inside his robes and ill-fitting clothes, as the group of first-years made their way up to the looming castle after the torturous boat ride. Harry felt particularly miserable, since the rocking motions of the boat and the constant bumping of the rowdy first years exacerbated his wounds cruelly, even as they, the perpetrators, moved on unknowingly.

But Harry knew better than to complain. It was one of the rules.

The large, loud and frightening Sir – Haggis or something of the sort, _but not 'llowed to use names _– banged violently on the large wooden doors several times. A stern, pinch-faced woman that reminded Harry of Ma'am in that she had a rather long neck and thin lips, opened the door to the half-giant's summons.

"Firs' years, M'nerva." Sir informed her in his loud, rough voice. For a moment, Harry thought that he was rather stating the obvious, before stifling that brief disrespectful thought beneath years of forced respect and servitude that he, having had no other experience, believed to be rightly what he deserved.

"Yes, thank you Hagrid." Ah, these people were normal, weren't freaks, because they were allowed to call each other by their names.

It still came as a shock to the boy that he even had a name at all, and he was quite certain there was some kind of error, a mistake, but he knew better than to argue. Again, one of the rules.

"Come, children." Ma'am ordered, and Harry followed obediently with the rest. As she walked and spoke to them, Harry made sure to listen closely, despite the distracting whisperings of awe from his fellow students. It was important to know all the rules of this new place. Punishment was bad, and Harry, despite knowing the hope was futile, wanted to be good.

He just had to try harder.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." Ma'am began. "The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points and be punished accordingly. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the school. I suggest you all smarted yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting**1**." Her eyes lingered for a moment on a boy's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on another boy's, a redhead's smudged nose, both of whom blushed and attempted to fix their appearances.

Ma'am led them into a smallish room, roughly the size of Sir and Ma'am's whole house, before coming to a stop in front of another set of double-doors. Harry could vaguely hear the rumbling cacophony of hundreds of voices on the other side of the aforementioned doors and quaked almost imperceptibly in fear. "Now, stay here. I'll be back to retrieve you shortly." And with those words of parting, Ma'am was gone.

Harry shuffled from foot to foot before remembering that fidgeting was not allowed.

It was in this state of unnatural and forced stillness that the disconcerting red-haired boy who'd been watching him since his departure from the train found him, much to his displeasure.

"Hello! I'm Ron, Ronald Weasley. What's your name?" but the way the boy's eyes flicked up to Harry's forehead every few moments betrayed the fact that he already knew. That, coupled with his loud and boisterous attitude that would most certainly get Harry into trouble with one of the Ma'am's or Sirs from earlier, made him both wary and fearful.

In a whisper, voice hoarse and small due to… well, it didn't matter, Harry replied, "Harry Potter."

Again, overly loud so the other students couldn't help but hear, "Really? The Harry Potter? Do you have the… y'know… the scar?"

Harry was momentarily confused. He did not understand his orders, what was it the Young Sir wanted him to do? Which scar did he mean? He had so very many… and the sudden silence and probing eyes were making him exceptionally uncomfortable. But again, carrot-top's eyes wandered to his forehead, and he breathed an internal sigh of relief. He understood his orders, and obligingly lifted his fringe to show the one scar he truly wished he didn't remember getting. The lightning bolt.

"Wicked!" Ron breathed, again too loud. It seemed like he was revelling in the attention and the eyes fixed upon himself and Harry that came with having a conversation with the famous 'Boy-Who-Lived'. Harry tried to shrink, disappear, into his overly large robes.

Then there was another boy, a fair-skinned, blond haired one, who easily and quietly made his way over, pale grey-silver eyes seeing Harry. Not studying, or ogling, or hating but… seeing. Actually seeing him.

"Hello. Harry Potter, is it? I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." Harry had a brief moment of deja-vu from a movie he had listened raptly to through his cupboard door once – Bond, James Bond. He had the sudden urge to laugh and grin, and that shocked him – when was the last time he had? But he didn't, he just nodded and studied the boy in front of him.

His robes looked expensive and soft, which belied his physical appearance. His nose and chin were sharp, regal. His hair was a pale, soft golden hue, slicked back to give him an aristocratic look and Harry was certain that he would be much more handsome with the strands loose around his face, long bangs at the front and cut shorter at the back in a style that would suit him perfectly. His eyes were a warm, molten-silver colour, kind and understanding.

The Young Sir was very kind, and Harry gathered the courage to look him in the eye – _No! No, no nonono! Don't break the rules! _– the gentle gaze prompted him to relax and he sent the boy a timid, shy half-smile, which was enough to cause Young Sir to grin in response and hold out his hand to… shake?

Him? The Young Sir wanted to… touch… something as filthy as him?

But his intentions were genuine, Harry knew. Harry had learnt how to read people very early on. Otherwise, how was he to know what, or rather; when, it was coming? Oh yes, Harry learned real fast.

"Go on, Malfoy!" The red-haired Young Sir, who reminded Harry far too much of Dudley for his own comfort, startled Harry from his brief moment with the kindly Young Sir who, in Harry's opinion, was so very gracious and generous, so bad that he jumped and flinched, wincing from the pain the motion caused him simultaneously. Those grey eyes flashed with… concern? For him? _Oh, Young Sir!_ But quickly became cold and turned on the angry red-head with a contemptuous sneer.

"No need to ask who you are. Red hair, freckles and hand me down robes? You must be a Weasley." Young Sir spat the word like venom. "Oh, and you've got some filth just… there." Young Sir pointed at the boy's nose before motioning to the rest of him. The other students tittered in laughter, but as the other Young Sir's face became red to slash with his hair, Harry cowered back. When Sir changed colours, Harry got hurt.

Then, those merciful silver eyes turned to Harry and, again, they were warm. "Come, Harry. There's some wizards you don't want to associate with. I can help you there." And he held out his hand, once again, like an angel reaching to pull him from hell.

Harry hesitated for an infinite moment, emerald eyes wide in shock. It seemed that the Young Sir was offering to be his… friend and to… to help him. But no one… no one ever…

But Harry realized he would never survive on his own if everyone else was like Red-Haired Young Sir. And he realized that he liked this golden archangel… his saviour.

And so, even if it meant serving the Young Sir for the rest of their years at this school, he decided, he would do it.

So Harry, after an eternity that was in reality only a few seconds, and with grey eyes shining in understanding and encouragement, Harry found the courage to give another half-smile and reach out and place his too-pale, callous and obviously broken hand into Young Sir's.

Young Sir smiled back, even as his eyes filled with pain at what he could feel, but no one else would bother to see. He gently, tenderly, shook Harry's hand as Harry whispered, again too hoarse, "I-I'd l-li-like th-that."

"Please, call me Draco, Harry."

_Young Sir… D-Dr-Dra-aco_

And before Carrot could blow up and… h-hurt young Harry, the doors opened and Ma'am returned. "Come, children. It's time."

And as everyone formed a line, with D-Drac-co manoeuvring Harry carefully behind him and keeping two burly, stocky boys behind Harry – Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, Draco had whispered. Friends – they followed Ma'am into an enourmous hall.

Voices mumbled and fluctuated around them as they filed in, causing a faint echo that rang off the wide, sparkling ceiling above them. There was a full moon which warmed Harry inside and caused him to half-smile again; it felt so good, so real, and stars and just a brief smattering of clouds that glowed in the iridescent moonlight. All this was mirrored on the wide expanse above him – It's enchanted to look like the night sky. I read about it in Hogwarts; a History – said a Miss from somewhere behind him.

Everyone came to a rather haphazard stop before an old, rickety stool with a worn, ancient-looking and tattered hat atop it. The line was abandoned and everyone crammed into one massive group, all trying to see and study the hat by peering over their peers' heads. But still, Harry could feel eyes upon him and that, coupled with the press of bodies around him was causing Harry to hyperventilate.

Draco noticed this, as did Vincent and Gregory and they pushed and nudged people until they had formed a safe bubble around Harry and Draco, who was gently helping Harry recover and breathe.

It took the entire duration of the Hat's song for Harry to calm down, so Draco explained in a soft whisper and patient tone what they had to do. Just try on the hat and it would tell you which house you belonged in.

"Don't worry Harry," Draco whispered reassuringly. "You'll stay with me, I just know it. Everything will be okay. I'll still be your friend," _Young Sir… Dr-Draco… _"no matter what."

And before Harry could recover from that – _a friend…? _– "Malfoy, Draco!" was called, and Draco squeezed his hand gently before letting it drop and sauntering up to the stool and perching upon it with all the grace, elegance and poise of a prince.

Harry looked around as Ma'am set the hat on Draco's head, where it sat for a bit – where was Young Sir Gregory and Young Sir Vincent? – before he saw them sitting at a table with a green and silver snake banner over it. Huh, that must be Slytha… Slinar…

"Slytherin!"

That's it! Draco gave Harry another small smile and a wink before he strolled over to the table to polite – the other houses – and sincere, raucous – Slytherin – applause.

Harry shifted nervously, he just couldn't help it, as he watched the other children be sorted. What if he didn't end up with Draco? What if he wasn't picked at all? What if he put on the hat and it realised what a freak Boy was and that he didn't deserve a name or a house or even to be there and sent him back to Sir and Ma'am and-

Just as Harry was beginning to breakdown in panic at the dangerous route his thoughts were taking, he heard "Potter, Harry!" being called by the Ma'am and jumped, flinched and winced, as he was wont to do, it seemed.

And the hall exploded into whispers and exclamations of surprise and shock as Harry slowly made his way, shaking with anticipation and anxiety, up to the stool and the all-knowing, fate-deciding hat. As he uncertainly sat upon the stool which barely creaked under his miniscule weight, his eyes desperately sought out that of his first friend's.

And the last thing Harry saw was the warm, silver eyes of Draco as he gave him a smile and thumbs-up before the hat fell upon his head and slipped over his eyes, shrouding his vision.

Harry trembled and very leapt from the stool when the hat began speaking. In his head.

'Ah yes… Harry Potter. I've heard all about you and… Oh! Oh dear boy. I haven't… I'd never have thought. Oh, I'm so sorry, dear boy… you poor, lost, broken child. I hope you can recover some of your lost childhood here, my boy… maybe, just maybe… a certain someone might give you a fighting chance.

Let's see… you have a strong heart, loyal and loving. All you need are some to love and be loyal to. But not Hufflepuff, I dare say they may smother you, and you couldn't stand that…

A sharp mind, eager to learn and determined to succeed, very good indeed. Incredibly intelligent, as well. I daresay you will practically move into the library, and become Madame Pince's first and only favourite student if you keep that up. Very analytical too, but not Ravenclaw, there just isn't enough heart.

Hmm… you're brave and courageous, but you'd have to be to have survived thus far, but you're not reckless in that bravery. No, far from it. In fact, I fear Gryffindor would push expectations upon your shoulders that would eventually crush you. Not to mention Gryffindors are thicker and more oblivious than your average rock, and none so much as the head of house.

So yes, there seems to be only one option. Slytherin, despite popular opinion, is fiercely loyal to their own, to a fault, and masters at the art of observing their surroundings and adapting accordingly, biding their time and learning their opponents weaknesses and strengths. Skills at which I you are already very much adept, am I correct? They'll help heal you, and give you your confidence. I would say they'd give you your confidence back, but you've never had it in the first place.' The hat sighed deeply and mournfully. 'But still, I shall give you a choice. Where do you want to be, precious little one?'

Harry wasn't sure what shocked him more, the fact that the hat had said he was precious or the fact that he had a choice.

"Pr-precious how?" he asked softly, begging for an answer

'You, my dear, have a golden aura. The first to ever exist, even Merlin only had one of more of a coppery hue. And many different talents, but that would be telling, wouldn't it? Now, where is it to be?'

"I… I wanna be with D-Dr-aco and Y-Young S-Sirs Vinc-cent and Cra-abbe. I jus-st w-wanna b-be s-sa-safe."

'Very well, little one. Haha, I was going to just announce that Mr. Malfoy was Slytherin but he had a request for me first. He almost begged, though when I pointed it out he denied a Malfoy begging fervently, for me to place you with him in Slytherin. It seems as though you've already got an ally. And you'll receive many, many more in…'

"Slytherin!"

Harry walked in a daze to the Slytherin table. He never noticed the shocked silence, almost four seconds, a record, before it broke out into huge applause from the Slytherin house and polite applause from the other, still shell-shocked, it seemed, houses.

But he only had eyes for Draco, his first ever friend, and his wide, beaming smile and Young Sirs' Gregory and Vincent's loud whoo-hoo's and large fists punching the air. And, like the sun peeking from behind the clouds after a horrible, ten-year storm, Harry smiled a real, genuine smile, emerald eyes shining with hope.

He didn't notice the hitched breaths around him when his fellow housemates caught sight of his broken grin, with its missing teeth and broken ones, as he gently perched on the bench beside Draco, wincing only a little, not even the pain able to break through his joy.

And as the sorting finally started up again, Ma'am stuttering at first in her lingering shock, all Harry could think was…

_I'm safe._

**1. Taken almost verbatim from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, except for ****_'and be punished accordingly'_****, which I had to add for Harry's sake.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Truth Hurts

Severus had to admit, he was intrigued when he saw his favourite – and only – godson enter the great hall shielding, with the assistance of his friends, a young, small and frail-looking youth between them.

Then he saw how they gently cocooned him and calmed him when the boy appeared to have a small panic attack, and he felt one of his eyebrows raise of its own accord.

He was resentful when the Avada-eyed boy was identified as The Potter Spawn, and then confused when he saw Draco smiling in encouragement at giving the brat a thumbs-up.

However, Severus was so shocked when the boy was sorted into Slytherin that he – greasy git, potions master extraordinaire, ex-Death Eater, dungeon bat and resident 'vampire' of the castle – spat out his mouthful of pumpkin juice.

Directly into Albus' beard.

Of course, the kindly old man who was so much like a grandfather to him, for no one could ever replace his own father, Tobias, god rest his soul, just laughed jovially and cleaned it with one of the small, yet still highly impressive, acts of wandless magic the man could perform.

And he very nearly fell out of his chair when his Snakes accepted the whelp so quickly, easily even, welcoming him with a warmth Slytherins simply do not show in public – except for under special circumstances – and shielding him from the whispers and stares. That, coupled with Draco, Crabbe and Goyle's downright un-Slytherin behaviour towards the brat was almost enough to completely crack his façade and leave him open-mouthed in shock.

Although that could also be down to Minerva's rather thinly veiled shock and disappointment, which he found quite amusing. The staff had a bet running each year, the head of house who had the most new students got to make all the other teachers do their marking for a month.

This had just put him in first place.

But then, of course she would be disappointed. It was widely known that both the Boy-Who-Lived's parents were Gryffindors, and was thusly expected that he followed in their footsteps and became a member of the noble, brave, courageous, downright stupid, brash, reckless-

Best stop those thoughts, lest he continue for hours. And he could.

As he ate almost mechanically, thoughts never wavering from the newest addition to his house, Severus took this moment to observe his Slytherins, searching for any sign of the reason for such behaviour. He could find none, except for the concerned and sad gazes of his Snakes directed towards the brat.

He followed their gazes and his brow furrowed as he took in the strange sight of the Potter boy sitting between Draco and Goyle, with Crabbe, Zabini and Nott across from him, as though to form a protective shield about him, and couldn't help but wonder why.

And, he noticed, how the boy didn't really speak, but simply nodded or shook his head with the occasional soft, half-smile that rarely reached his eyes.

He also wondered when. While everyone else was digging in with all the enthusiasm of children under the age of twenty, the boy didn't hardly touch anything. At all.

He gazed around at first, almost mournful in his melancholy, and expression which did not belong on the face of one so young, but was more suited towards an old war veteran, visiting his best friend's grave for what he knew was the last time. It tightened his chest painfully.

Draco, he noticed, along with a number of elder Slytherins and first years, encouraged the boy gently to take something. The boy's small, pale hand shot out quick as anything and snatched a piece of toast. He had just raised it to his lips when Draco reached to gently ease it from his grasp, and the boy's reaction made ice form in his veins.

Tears formed in his eyes and he whimpered softly, flinching back and curling as though preparing for a hit, giving up the food without a fight and it took five minuted before the others could even get the boy to uncurl, a further five to stop whimpering apologies and another ten before he accepted the piece of toast from a contrite, guilty-looking, distressed and concerned Draco, now complete with butter and honey. And his face when he took that first bite, it was as though he had never tasted something like it before, and it made an uneasy, almost nauseous feeling form in the base of his chest, which now fluttered with a sensation akin to the feeling of, for lack of a better term, 'butterflies in his stomach'. And his face when he drank pumpkin juice, as though he had never even had juice before, just worsened the sensation.

He turned to face Albus, and the headmaster appeared to have aged ten years in as many minutes, the twinkle missing from his kindly blue eyes and grief replacing the usually happy expression in his eyes, and they two nodded to each other gravely.

This needed looking into.

Albus, of course, pulled himself together with all the ease of the Slytherin Severus suspected the old man to have been, and gave a cheery announcement about the third floor corridor, and the forbidden forest, the majority of which seemed to be directed towards two identical red-headed Gryffindor third-years.

His thoughts returned to the boy, and his chest tightened. Surely not, he had to be mistaken, dear god please let him be mistaken. Not the Boy-Who-Lived, saviour of the wizarding world, supposed Golden Boy, Lily's baby boy...

But then he watched as the boy shifted slight and winced, fingers clenching on the edge of the table in a moment of weakness. And then, so fast that if he hadn't been watching the boy closely, his hair flashed a… different colour? Yes, red. Not a bright red, or a deep red, but a red that looked like blood. The boy was a metamorphmagus, and he was in pain.

As soon as he realised this, he began to turn to Albus who was just wrapping up his speech, and watched helplessly as the man left the hall before he could speak to him, sighing in defeat.

He sat down again, having lifted slightly from his chair and began to pick at the broccoli the man had obviously snuck onto his plate dejectedly. He hated broccoli.

Finally, the meal was finished, and Severus watched in pride and approval as Draco gently awoke the physically exhausted Harry from his light doze, with the assistance of some of the elder Slytherin girls, who gently seemed to mother him while the others hid them from view. The Slytherins lined up by year with a seventh year at the front of each column. Nearly unnoticeably, the Snakes manoeuvred their littlest housemate to the front of their line, making sure there was an older, powerful student at his front and a group of loyal first years behind him.

Severus caught the eye of Justin Harkness, the seventh year prefect, and gave the boy, whom was currently pretending not to notice the hand Harry had fisted into his robes at the back, an imperceptible approving nod. Justin, naturally, merely inclined his head in understanding before making his way to the Slytherin dungeons, followed by the second years, third years and so on.

Harry stumbled a lot and was breathing heavily, having had to jog to keep up with the still relatively slow pace the prefect had set, unwilling to release the elder boy's robes, by the time they arrived in front of the stone wall. If Harry focused, he noticed a silver glow coming from a particular section, and he almost smirked when he realised that this was the entrance, before frowning in realisation that no one else seemed to see the glow but him.

"This is the entrance to the Slytherin dorms. Do not, under any circumstances, tell a member of another house where the entrance lies, of we will not be held responsible for our actions. The password is: Snakeling, and changes every week. The new password will be posted on the notice board in the common room Sunday evening, and will take effect by Monday morning. If you do not know the password, or forget the way, feel free to approach an elder student for directions." Justin explained as he led the children it, standing in front of the fire and motioning for them all to sit in their year groups.

"Thank you, Justin." Professor Snape entered the light from one of the dark corners and noticed with interest that Potter did not even react to his appearance. Had the boy already been aware of his presence? "Please continue."

"Ahem." Justin cleared his throat to gain the attention of the first years; this was a part of every Snakeling's introduction. "What would I get if I added powdered asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Many of the children's faces were blank, but Draco, naturally, and surprisingly Harry, both raised their hands, though Harry was significantly more timid than Draco and lowered his hand almost instantaneously once he saw that Draco wanted to answer.

Justin raised his eyebrows lightly, as did Severus. Neither of them had expected the small, silent boy to actually answer, let alone speak, much less know the information.

Justin, curious, decided to explore this phenomenon. "Very well. It seems almost none of you bothered to read your potions books before arriving. Mr Potter?" Justin indicated the black haired wraith of a child and Draco whirled around in surprise, not having seen his friend's hand in the air, being slightly ahead him.

Harry was frozen, shocked and frightened. No one had called on him before and he hated all the gazes boring into him, making the tremors even worse. Also… what would Draco do if he answered correctly? Would he get mad at him? Would he… h-hurt him?

But, Harry decided, he was even more afraid of the Young Sir and Sir that stood, tall and in authority, and so he took a deep breath and tried to swallow around the painful lump in his throat. Even as he did so, he shot an apologetic look towards the blond boy and was greatly relieved to see only encouragement and understanding, as well as excitement on his part, in those grey eyes.

"D-Dra-aught o-of Li-li-liv-" Harry's throat constricted once more, making it difficult to breathe yet again for another painful moment, but he struggled through it, oblivious to the ever-growing alarm and concern in the gazes around him, keeping his viridian gaze respectfully on the cold stone floor. "D-Draught of Li-iv-ving De-eath." He gasped out, before reaching up to rub at his throat and wheezing slightly. Having finally succeeded, a large amount of tension left his body and Draco touched the back of his free hand in support, despite Harry's voice being so quiet and raspy most couldn't hear it.

Justin gave the heartbreakingly heart-warming child an encouraging smile. "Mr Potter?" he waited until the boy had slowly looked back to him. "Correct. Five points to Slytherin. Well done."

Harry, pleased and surprised at receiving praise for the first time in his life, gave a large, blinding smile. Justin and Severus' breath hitched at the painful sight of the broken and missing teeth and the cut up, shredded and, oh god, bleeding gums. Neither had seen at the feast, and it became very clear to Severus just why his Snakes were behaving as they were. It was… horrific. It took all their self-control not to break down right then and there, and even then, they had to take a moment to school their features. By that time, the smile had disappeared.

Justin continued, voice trembling unnoticeably. "How about a bezoar. What is it used for, and where might I find one?"

This time, Draco didn't raise his hand. He turned to Harry, and whispered, "Do you know this question as well Harry?"

Timid once again, Harry hesitantly met Draco's gaze and nodded for a moment, before averting his eyes. The young Malfoy smiled in encouragement before raising his arm.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy?"

"Harry knows." Was all he said, before turning expectantly to his wide-eyed, shocked and anxious looking friend.

Harry's throat, tight from use and painful, caused him to stammer badly once again and struggle lightly for breath in a way that you would have to be watching for it to notice. "It c-cu-ures m-most poi-oisons. A-and they c-come fr-rom a go-oat's st-sto-stom-" Harry's throat constricted completely for a moment and he could not breath at all, letting out a rasping wheezing sound, looking close to crying in frustration at his inability to speak.

"Shhh." Draco soothed him, gently rubbing Harry's dirty and tangled hair, ignoring the automatic flinch. "It's okay Harry. Don't push it. Just take a deep breath, that's it, and let it out…"

Harry followed Draco's advice and resumed his breathing once again, much to the relief of his house as many slumped from where they had been straining, exhaling softly. "G-go-goat's st-stom-mach."

"Once again, correct Mr Potter. Another five points to Slytherin." Severus allowed the corners of his lips raise in the tiniest motion, and Harry's quickly brightened in response, the joy tugging on his heart.

And yet, there was confusion in the expression. Almost as though he had not received praise before and had no idea what to do with it once he'd received it.

"Last question. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane." This was the one question no one seemed to get right. Ever. And if irritated Severus to no end.

Harry, however, slightly more bolstered, once again raised his hand, smiling slightly under his new friend's proud grin. Severus gave the scrawny, obviously weak boy an appraising look and encouraging nod.

"Yes, Mr Potter?"

"Th-they're the sa-ame… the s-same th-thing. Also c-ca-all-ed ac-ac-aco-acon-acon-aconi-aconi-ite!" Harry finally forced the word past the block in his throat and blushed light, momentarily embarrassed by the loud exclamation created by the force with which he spoke the word, before doubling over in a harsh coughing fit that left a few splatters of blood on his hand, which he quickly hid, waving off his friend's concern with a quick, false smile.

"Well done, Mr Potter. Very well done. Ten points to Slytherin for being the first to answer that question correctly." Severus praised, trying not to get caught up in those familiar joyful eyes, now masked and fogged in broken agony which tore at him.

He turned to the rest of the Slytherins. "You had best not embarrass either myself, yourself or this house like this in front of the other houses. A lack of knowledge is a weakness, and weakness is not something Slytherins can afford to reveal. You will find that, as a member of this house, you will face a lot of prejudice. In this house, we take care of our own. Any disputes you may have stop the moment you cross that threshold," here he pointed to the doorway, "and will not, under any circumstances, accompany you outside of this room. Just because we are Slytherins doesn't mean we aren't intelligent, brave, loyal or kind. Unlike Ravenclaws, we can use our knowledge in real life situations, and take our intelligence one step further, and utilize cleverness. Like Gryffindors, we can be brave and courageous, but we don't rush headlong into dangerous situations with reckless abandon. We think through all the facts and contingencies, create back-up plans for our back-up plans and always have a plan A through to X. And while we can be as loyal and kind as a Hufflepuff, we don't possess erratic temperaments and are not ruled by our emotions.

"We are unpredictable, powerful, unmatchable. We possess the best of the houses, but since the others don't see it, don't understand it, they ostracize us and ridicule us. This is where your loyalty will come into play the most. Snake always, always, stick up for each other. Under any circumstances."

Severus pointed to about two-hundred or so two-foot tall cylindrical glass tubes, all with a personalized name-plate on them, placed around the circumference of the room.

"In this house we have a system much like house points. Both myself and the prefects can award points, and if someone does something you think deserves a rewards, approach either a prefect or myself to see to it that their accomplishment is recognised. The points are referred to as cupis', which is latin for point. They can be redeemed for galleons, special privileges, extended curfews and even hall passes.

"Oh, and three cuspis' to Harry Potter, for reading the up to and beyond the material and answering in a competent manner."

To the Slytherin's amazement, three glowing silver beads appeared and floated in the cylinder. Severus was momentarily concerned that Potter's face would split with the wide, and yet still so horrible, grin he was sporting.

"In order to hide our weaknesses, and protect each other as a house and family, we must know what they are. And so, I shall lead you in an Unbreakable Oath, which will ensure that the words and secrets revealed to you by your housemates will not be betrayed, for as long as you live. When you raise your wands I shall speak the oath and you shall reply with 'I so swear it'. Do you understand?"

The first years, and everyone else, raised their wands and waited for their head of house to speak the oath. Severus watched with concerned eyes as Harry, who seemed to understand exactly what was being asked of them, paled drastically. But, when he could find no way out, raised his wand just like everyone else and Severus watched with proud eyes and his godson reassured the boy with a gentle hand resting on his outstretched hand.

Severus nodded in pride and approval. "Swear to uphold your housemates' trust, to never use their weaknesses against them and to never betray confidences at the forfeit of your magic. Do you so swear it?"

As one the students intoned 'I so swear it'. Harry, who stuttered even worse than before, was a step behind the rest, but the oath was a success nevertheless, and a glowing golden chain bound the house to each other for a moment before disappearing.

"Now, we may continue. Who would like to start from Seventh Year?"

Justin Harkness took the initiative and stepped forwards. "I am… gay and engaged to a boy I fell in love with over the summer. My family is incredibly supportive, as is his," which was to be expected, for the wizarding world held no such prejudices, "except for a cousin of mine whose muggle husband is a Muggle Christian and calls it a sin. He and she kept screaming about it and that night was the first time I cried in five years. I cut myself, but my fiancé stopped me from doing it more than once, and then hit me with a pillow for an hour. 'One hour for each cut,' he said, 'be grateful I stopped you, you prat!'" He stepped back and Severus nodded at him, pride shining in his eyes.

"Well done, Mr Harkness. Next." And in this fashion, it continued.

One by one the students came forwards, slowly but surely making their way to the first years. There were many tales of love, forbidden love, an unloving parent, single parent who struggled, occasional neglect, some had eating disorders, some were dyslexic and some were orphans. There were a few that spoke of the struggles that came with having a convicted Death Eater as a parent, currently wasting away in Azkaban, and how the people tended to judge them by that. Some had been bullied to the point of self-harm and depression, and at least three had attempted suicide before, but never again, they vowed, due to Severus' interference, along with their housemates'.

Finally, it was time for the fledgling Slytherins. By this point Harry was pasty white and had broken out in a cold sweat over his pallid skin. Severus made sure to keep a close eye on him, to make sure he didn't have a panic attack.

Crabbe and Goyle went up, speaking about having to deal with people assuming they were idiots because of their ape-like fathers, and eventually tiring of it to the point where they just played along with the stereotype. Both Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass had thrown up after they had eaten once, but resolved never to again after a firm talking to from their parents. Millicent Bulstrode spoke of how her mother practically ignored her in favour of her older, prettier, more feminine sister, leaving her father to raise her, and how he was the best father she could ever have asked for, even if she did long for a mother every once in a while. Theodore Nott's mother was kind, however she was sickly and it constantly weighed on his mind that he didn't know how much longer he had with her. Draco spoke of how his father and mother had vowed not to let him join Voldemort, explaining that he had been a very good and reasonable Lord before he slowly became insane. At which point, he began marking them and torturing them and that if he was anything like he used to be, they would leave the country before he saw neither hide nor hair of the man. Blaise Zabini told of how his mother's reputation was grossly overrated. She was on her third husband, the first having been Blaise's father. The second had made the mistake of backhanding a five-year old Blaise, and she had not hesitated but killed him instantly. His current stepfather, he told, he had a very amiable relationship with.

Finally only Harry was left, and everyone seemed to hold their breath as they took in the violently trembling, pale and near crying child that seemed to be struggling to breathe.

Severus knew he would have to tread very carefully now, he had not studied psychology for nothing.

Very softly Severus motioned Harry forward. "Mr Potter? If you please."

Harry was shaking his head frantically, tears shimmering in those shattered green orbs and breath hitching alarmingly. "P-ple-ease d-don't… pl-ple-ease do-on't ma-ake me-e! C-can't t-te-ell, c-can't tell! He-e'll kill m-me! H-he'll k-kill m-m-me!"

Severus moved towards the terrified youth, barely noticed the tears streaming down some of the girls' faces already as he scooped the boy up in his arms. Ignoring the startled and pained cry, he settled the child in his lap, the chair facing the now ashen-faced group. He'd started to run calming and soothing circles on his back, but the flinched again and he settled for carding his long fingers through Harry's ratted, filthy locks.

"Hush, little one. Remember that Oath we all took, that promise? No one will tell about what you reveal. 'He' will never find out you told. And we'll protect you, little one, we promise."

Harry sobbed nearly silent cries for about five more minutes before seeming to reach a decision. In a hitching, broken voice, Harry spoke, "M-my na-ames no-not l-li-ittle o-one o-or Ha-Harry. M-my na-ame is b-b-boy or f-fr-fre-eak. S-S-Sir and Ma-Ma'am s-say fr-eaks do-on't de-des-serve n-names." He took in a deep wheezing breath and couldn't get oxygen into his lungs.

This time it was Severus' turn for his breath to hitch. "Wh-what else do they say about… freaks?"

This time, while rough and painful, Harry's voice was monotonous and un-stuttering, almost dead and Severus and the students could only listen in shock and dawning horror.

"Freaks are abnormal. Freaks don't get love. You can't love a freak, you can only put up with them. Freaks don't deserve clothes. Freaks don't deserve food. Freaks don't deserve a bedroom. Misses and Ma'ams can't touch a freak. Freaks must be grateful to Sirs for trying to beat the freakishness out of them. You can't let a freak on the furniture. Freaks are dirty, filthy and contaminated. Freaks are only good for one thing. Freaks are wrong, and freakish, and can't be good, because they don't know how."

"A-and what… what does it take to be good?" Severus' voice was hoarse and pained, and many of his students were either crying or close to it.

Child abuse just wasn't heard of in the wizarding world. To a wizard or witch, every single child was precious, to be loved and cared for, and this was… horrifying for many in the room, which almost completely consisted of purebloods and half-bloods, all of which were from reasonably, at least, loving homes.

Harry's answer chilled them all to the bone. "Don't talk, don't make messes, don't exist. Do all the chores, cook all the meals, do Dudley's homework. Don't complain, don't ask questions, don't talk back to Sirs or Ma'ams or Young Sirs or Misses. Follow all orders. Don't cry, don't scream, don't get blood on the clean floor."

"Sounds like you weren't allowed to be good, young one." Severus whispered, utterly horrified.

That seemed to break Harry out from the horrible cage of memories, his brainwashing. He looked up at the dark man with tearful, pleading desperately hopeful viridian eyes. "B-but ma-aybe i-if I t-try re-eally h-ha-ard?" It ended up coming out as more of a question, his voice beseeching.

Severus had to squeeze his eyes shut to control his grief and pain at the broken memory of his best friend's son. After his moment, he tried to regain control of his wayward emotions, choosing to address something the small child had mentioned, to the soundtrack of silent sobbing from some of the girls, and even some of the boys had tears running down their faces.

"You mentioned bleeding, and I know for a fact you are injured. Will you let me examine you?"

Harry whimpered and shut his eyes tightly, but remained unmoving as the professor slowly removed his robe from his shoulders. Several older students cursed under their breath when the torn, over-sized, blood-stained pants and shirt were exposed. Severus once again had to take a deep breath, carding his fingers through Harry's hair in an attempt to relax the both of them as the boy buried his head in Severus' robes. Then he waved his wand and Harry was left in the professor's lap in nothing but a pair of filthy, equally bloodied underwear.

But Severus was only met with unblemished, smooth skin. No signs of imperfections of wounds. "W-what?"

"C-can't see. N-no o-one ca-an s-see." Harry mumbled brokenly. "D-don't kn-know wh-why."

Draco stepped forwards, face pale in light of his little snake's revelations. "Severus, I think he's wearing a full body glamour. When I shook his hand earlier, I could feel his broken fingers but could not see any evidence of corresponding injuries."

Severus waved his wand over the trembling boy and raised his eyebrow. The glamour was powerful, intricate and at least six or seven years old. It seemed the boy had a very large amount of magical energy, to be able to support this for so long.

Channelling all his power and will into the spell, he cried out, "Finite Incantatem!"

He hushed Harry when the boy cried out in shock from the raised voice, and then pain as almost a decade's worth of glamour fell away from his body, even as the students cried out in horror at the sight before them, some going as far as to run into the bathroom to empty the contents of their stomach, and Severus dearly wished he could do the same. As it was, he had to swallow several times to keep down bile at the sight of the child's emaciated body.

Scars, both old and new, healed and bloody overlaid bruises ranging from black to yellow. Some of the wounds, which appeared to be the result of a whip and belt and buckle were pulsing with vicious green infection. FREAK was slashed across his shoulders, WORTHLESS and BURDEN were running down his arms, along with MURDERER and – Severus had to close his eyes tightly against the tears that welled up there – WHORE was branded onto his lower back.

Suddenly the blood on his underwear took on a totally different, horrific meaning.

Severus leaned the boy back from his chest to examine his front, and it was no better than the back. The word DEVIL was carved into his hip and the Christian cross branded onto his chest, over his heart made Severus shudder, though you scars criss-crossed beneath it and it was obvious that it had been 'renewed' it the pinkish hue was anything to go by. Bruises covered him yet again, as did wounds and Severus could count every rib and even see the breaks in them, and Harry's stomach was so inverted that his spine was visible from the front.

He gently lifted the child's bleeding, broken and disfigured hands, several missing their nails.

However, it was the sight of Harry's face that made a single tear slip from his eye. There was a scar that ran over his left cheek, and cut through his lip lightly, but his left eye had been… burned… with a red hot poker. It was completely white, except for the black iris and a black circle marking where the pupil should have been. His right eye was brighter too, almost luminescent and shone with something, but Severus could not decide what. Their power was not diminished in any way by the tears swimming in their depths.

His hair was shifting colours until it settled on a bleak, depressing and heartbroken grey, and but Severus' eyes were riveted to the boy's throat.

On it, was a large, violent scar cutting from left to right, and it all fell into place.

They boy's trouble with talking, with breathing… someone had tried to kill him.


End file.
